


Day 19: Date Night - Silver, Gold and Rose

by 221b_hound



Series: Techienician: Botanical Love [20]
Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 30 Days of Techienician, Date Night, Engagement, M/M, Techienician
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: Matt is taking Techie on a proper date, somewhere expensive. They're a bit out of their depth, but luckily their waiter is a romantic.





	

Matt peers at the menu, two little lines appearing between his brows. It’s probably the low lighting in this place. Too posh for decent illumination and perhaps the people who come to this sort of place can afford to buy the best eyesight. He’s got a bit of a headache now, and that is making the squint-frown even frownier.

The waiters are getting nervous of his scowl too, and that would make him more annoyed except…

Except here comes Techie, returning from the restroom looking. He’s holding his wrist up and turning it, to make the three bangles on it glint in the soft light.

 _My Mus. My sweet little mouse_ , Matt thinks, and instantly the tension is gone and in its place are warmth and pleasure and a little bubble of giddy delight. His eyes shine, his smile is a blend of contentment and incandescent joy.

*

Jhotav, an Ithorian waiter who two minutes ago was wondering if this somewhat rough customer was in the right establishment and whether he was thinking of Starting Something, now understands.

Mr Hugon may not be at all the usual clientele, but his motivations are delightfully romantic. The nervy man with whom Mr Hugon arrived went almost immediately to the refresher, and here he returns, more relaxed, admiring the Corellian betrothal bracelets – silver, gold and rose gold – on his slender wrist. Now he looks, Jhotav can see similar bracelets on the thicker wrist of the bespectacled guest. Mr Hugon is also looking at his returning betrothed with a look of such adoration and pride that Jhotav, a true romantic at heart, is charmed beyond all reason.

Jhotav’s people area gardeners and philosophers – and only very occasionally bounty hunters – and he shares with them the skills of observation, nurturing and swift decision.

He pulls out the chair for the arriving human with the crystal-decorated red hair and the sore-looking, vivid blue mech-eyes and the rouge-blushed smile that is equally besotted, and determines how best to ensure these two have a perfect betrothal celebration meal.

*

Techie, whose eyes can see in all sorts of light, dim or burning bright, plonks down at the table opposite Matt and plucks at the linen napkin, nerves returning at the fineness of their surroundings, and how exposed to view he feels at this table. Matt reaches across the table to rest his palm over Techie’s agitated fingers.

Techie looks at Matt’s hand on his. He looks up at Matt, in the coat he bought last market they visited. The smoky blue of it suits Matt’s golden hair, and the cut of it may not be perfect, straining just a little across Matt’s shoulders, but Techie likes that. He _loves_ Matt’s size.

This restaurant is full of people in really nice clothes with really nice manners and Techie feels _really_ out of place. But Matt wanted to take him somewhere nice. Somewhere classy, Matt had said, and he’d been saving up for ages, and Techie doesn’t want to disappoint Matt by saying he feels too conspicuous here. He worries that people are staring at them. Techie hates people who are not Matt noticing him.

“Okay?” Matt asks.

“Yeah.” Techie smiles, turns his hand up to squeeze Matt’s fingers. His new bracelets glint in the low light and he can’t help smiling at them and turning his hand to make them shine some more. Matt lifts his own bangled hand to the table and wiggles it for the same effect.

They grin at each other for a moment, so full of delight in each other that other worries are forgotten. Then Techie turns his attention to the menu.

“We can go somewhere else,” says Matt suddenly.

“No,” insists Techie, reminding himself this isn’t the Clan, and it’s not really dangerous to be seen any more. “This looks good. The crystal mushroom soup.”

Actually, Techie think he could buy Matt a new jacket with what that soup costs, and he can see Matt peering at the menu as though he can’t believe a few crystal mushrooms in a bowl can possibly add up to so much.

But then Matt adjusts his glasses and smiles warmly at him and says, “Stop looking at the prices. It’s fine. And you’re special. You deserve something special. We’ve never been on a dinner date before. I want to…” Then he stops and covers Techie’s hand with his own again. “But we don’t have to stay. It’s a bit…” he looks around, where their table isn’t the best table and is more exposed than the others. “Open here. Sorry, baby. It’s okay. We’ll go.”

Techie doesn’t want to disappoint Matt, but it does feel very open. And expensive. And _open_. He feels like he’s not properly dressed for a place like this. He feels like everyone is staring….

And all of a sudden, the Ithorian waiter is back.

“So sorry, gentlemen,” he says, “I am Jhotav, your waiter for this evening. I see sirs are celebrating a special occasion.”

Matt immediately preens, showing off his bangles by reaching across the table to place his hand on Techie’s, drawing attention to Techie’s too. Techie might be startled that the waiter has noticed, but he’s so caught up in how Matt so instantly reached for him to show off their new status that all he can do is gaze at his fiancé with adoration.

“A betrothal is always a wonderful reason to celebrate,” says Jhotav, and smiles with both of his mouths. “I hope sirs do not mind, but may I make bold with some suggestions? We have a most excellent three course menu which humanoids find pleasing to the palate…” As he stoops to shake linen out over Matt’s lap, the mouth closest to Matt’s ear whispers the set price, which is just within the generous amount Matt has saved for this dinner. Matt flashes a look at him, and nods minutely.

Jhotav then expands on the menu while flitting about the table, moving this chair, that curtain, two pots of bamboo-esque greenery. “A Grik bisque to start, followed by hitaka fish grilled to perfect pinkness and served with seasonal local vegetables, finishing with the chef’s own take on a traditional Blue Milk Custard with a blend of gree, andris and doaki spices for a pleasingly gentle spice afterglow. If that would please you, sirs?”

When he’s done, their little table has a fall of blue curtain to one side, bamboo shielding them on the other. It’s not much of a change, but it’s also suddenly much more private.

“That sounds good. Techie?”

Techie nods, relieved, because he wants to do this with this man he’s going to be old with one day.

“Two of those, then,” says Matt.

With a flourish, Jhotav presents a small carafe and pours liquid into two tiny glasses. “Tarkenian Nightflower, complements of the house,” he says. He smiles with both his mouths and the eyes on top of his leathery head blink slowly and gently. “It is considered an auspicious wine for a happy couple.”

He is rewarded by these two men looking at each other like each is the new dawn. They are still basking in the light of each other as he discreetly withdraws to see if the Grik bisque is ready.


End file.
